Quiet Desperation
by Frau Eva
Summary: Filia is now living with Gravos and Jillas is a small village, trying desperately to hide Val's secrets in order to give him a normal life. However, not even Filia knows what could be wrong with him now.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
Secrets and Lies

* * *

Author's Notes: Sorry to everyone who was enjoying this fic, or any of my writing. My e-mail account had been hacked into. From there, whoever it was received access to delete everything in my account. I'll be getting everything up again, starting with these multi-chapters because they seemed to gain the most interest. Everything will continue on as usual and my e-mail has been changed. Please be patient with me though; finals are coming up, and I have a lot of things to fic since my e-mail was hacked. I'll try my best to get things running smoothly again!

From childhood's hour I have not been

As others were; I have not seen

As others saw; I could not bring

My passions from a common spring.

From the same source I have not taken

My sorrow; I could not awaken

My heart to joy at the same tone;

And all I loved, I loved alone.

Then—in my childhood, in the dawn

Of a most stormy life—was drawn

From every depth of good and ill

The mystery which binds me still:

From the torrent, or the fountain,

From the red cliff of the mountain,

From the sun that round me rolled

In its autumn tint of gold,

From the lightning in the sky

As it passed me flying by,

From the thunder and the storm,

And the cloud that took the form

(When the rest of Heaven was blue)

Of a demon in my view.

--Edgar Allan Poe, "Alone"

* * *

"Val doesn't have a father, does he?"

"Yes, he does. I told you, he just died," Filia answered, not even turning to look at the woman beside her. Her eyes stood transfixed on a young boy dashing amongst the tall grass. He huffed slightly as he ran, his long mane of aqua hair tossing wildly with each beat of his shoes on the ground. Thin legs stretched out from scruffy blue shorts, leaping over shoots of tall grass. His face held a blank yet wide-eyed expression, mouth open to fill his needing lungs. "Wait for me!" he shouted between breaths, the troupe of boys ahead of him only responding with laughter.

"You're awfully young to be a widow," said Calandra Bartram matter-of-factly. Once she spoke she daintily lifted her teacup to her lips, pinky out, and took a small delicate sip.

'And you're awfully nosy,' Filia thought to herself, but bit her tongue so as not to risk offense. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"Dear, you can be honest. Tell me, did he run off with another woman?" Mrs. Bartram asked. A look of annoyance then suddenly spread across the woman's face as she felt a lock of brown hair come loose from her perfect coif, she immediately lifting her hand to delicately smooth it back.

"No, he died," Filia insisted—monotone—still turned away, "He was shot…one day, out hunting. He was good at that. A villager mistook him for an animal and shot him through the heart. It was just an innocent accident. He was a very good man…my husband."

Mrs. Bartram sat back in her white wicker chair and daintily took another sip of tea. "It's a shame," she said as she again set her teacup down on its saucer, "Such a boy having to grow up without a father. They tend to have so many problems you know. Why, old Widow Hiltraud had to raise her son without a father, and you simply wouldn't believe how that boy turned out. He's dead and gone, but he certainly was an eerie sight. He'd just keep to himself and stare at people all the time, from dusk till dawn. It certainly used to frighten me when I was younger; I was about courting age, only a little older than him. Eventually he just withered away, I suppose. And then, of course, Widow Hiltraud simply had a fit and left for the outskirts of town. Of course, all of them were probably a bit touched in the head, a bit too hysterical.

"Anyway, I simply couldn't see myself raising my dear Bram without Eamon. He's such a good provider, bless his little heart. It's such a shame you have to live all alone at such a young girl, still having to raise that boy alone. Especially with Val's little problem. That must be absolutely terrible to deal with."

Filia's eyes opened wider for only a second, then quickly returned to normal. "There is no problem. I don't know what you're talking about," she replied calmly.

"Filia dear, don't lie. I know you simply cannot be so oblivious. You're the one who has to keep buying new clothes for him. Val looks like he's six or seven now, the same as my dear Bram. Only last year he looked about three years old, about Pernella's age."

"Oh, Pernella. You have such a precious little daughter, Calandra. How is she?" Filia asked, her lips slowly curling into the semblance of a smile.

"Don't try to change the subject, Filia dear. What's wrong with Val? Is the boy bewitched?"

Filia said nothing. Her eyes stared out into the tall, untamed field of grass behind the Bartram's house. She picked Val out amongst the prairie, aqua locks tossing as he ran. He still trodded after the pack of boys, but the sound of gleeful laughter had stopped. Now they bore disgusted scowls each time they looked back to see if Val still followed.

One stopped. Val's eyes widened; he stopped suddenly to keep from running into the boy. "You freak! Get away from us!" the boy shouted as he rushed forward. Angry arms struck at Val. The startled dragon fell to the dirt. Peals of laughter erupted. One boy descended with him, knocking Val squarely in the jaw with his fist.

Filia sprang up from her chair, eyes flashing. She immediately sprinted forward. The pack of boys backed away as she approached, their faces suddenly stricken with the fear of retribution. "Why did you do that!" she screamed, her face curled into a snarl.

Filia quickly knelt down next to Val. Her eyes scanned over his body. Val's body looked relatively unharmed, his cheek having yet the time to swell. He sat up quickly, purposefully staring down his assailants. Val's eyes were squinted slightly, his face hardening to hide an emotion which he could not express.

Filia recognized the expression all too well.

"No…" she said quietly to herself, "I won't have anyone making you look that way again."

Filia was visibly shaking as she sprung up and moved in for the attack. "Why did you do that!" she yelled as she loomed over the group of frightened boys. "How dare you! How dare you hit him! You should be ashamed of yourselves!"

"Filia, do calm down," Mrs. Bartram said as she slowly arrived on the scene, "You know how boys are. These things happen all the time."

"Then it'll never happen again, I'll make sure of it! This will never, ever happen when I'm around! Never! These boys have to learn a lesson! My boy won't be called a freak!"

"Yes, yes, I'll be sure to tell his mother about all this, and I'm certain those boys will go to bed without supper. You—,"

"No!" Filia yelled back, "I won't have them getting just any slap on the wrist! They can't do this to him and just go unpunished! I won't have this happening ever again!" Filia's hand reached out for the guilty boy.

"Filia mama, stop! It's out!" Val yelled nervously, quickly moving to cover her backside from view.

She straightened suddenly, realizing what he had said. Her tail was showing. She would have given them away. She took in deep breaths as she moved away, trying her best to curl her tail under the protection of her dress. "I'm sorry. I just…lost my head for a minute," she murmured.

"It's quite all right, Filia, dear. You should sit down for a moment. Relax," Mrs. Bartram said, standing in place. Val's eyes narrowed.

"No…that's alright. I think I should go. I've caused you enough trouble for one day. Thank you for inviting me. I really do enjoys these Saturday afternoon chats," Filia said apologetically, retreating slowly.

"Oh, no trouble at all, Filia dear. Do come by again. So many of the townswomen have to work night and day; it's nice to have someone like you to pass the time with every once in a while," Mrs. Bartram said. She then turned her attention away from them, kneeling down to look at her young boy. "Did you have a nice time with Val today, Bram? I'm sure you were just as sweet as sugar to that boy, weren't you? Really, your friends should learn something from you, sweetie."

Bram gave his mother a sweet smile, staying silent. "Oh, what a good boy you are! I'll have to treat you to a macaroon once we get back in the house." She gave Bram a small kiss on the forehead, then rose and walked towards the house.

"I think I'll be going now, Calandra. You have a nice afternoon," Filia said politely, backing away.

"Oh, goodbye, Filia dear," Mrs. Bartram said, not even stopping or looking back from her trip towards the kitchen.

Val suddenly felt something: the weight of eyes boring into him. He turned away from his mother to look forward, immediately catching the angry gaze of Bram's brown eyes. The Bartram boy stood as still as a rock, tall and straight. Nothing in his form changed, not even the blinking of an eye. Val's eyes narrowed.

"Come on, Val. Let's go home," Filia said softly, catching Val's attention. Her hand reached out for his, threading his small fingers through her own. He dutifully followed her, walking a bit faster than usual.

They walked away from the Bartram house together, a huge structure set slightly apart from the rest of the village. The wind was strong, blowing both Filia's and Val's hair away from their faces. Filia looked out into the dusty streets that awaited them. "Val, do you want to go back to play next Saturday?" Filia asked wearily, pausing for a moment before adding, "Be honest."

"No," he replied simply.

"Good," she said, a smile creeping into her lips, "Me neither." Val smiled.

Filia turned to Val for a moment, running her hands through his long, aquamarine hair. "Your hair's past your shoulders now. I'll have to give you another haircut soon."

"Didn't you just give me one three days ago?" Val replied irritably.

Filia sighed. "Yes…yes, I did." There was silence for a long minute on the road, every sound being engulfed by the strong wind. They simply walked forward, hands threaded together. They both knew what each other was thinking about, but putting it into words was another matter.

Finally, Filia spoke. "I don't know why that boy had to do that, you know. So many of those children have absolutely no manners," she said, her voice slowly rising in pitch, "I mean, that was just uncalled for. You had done nothing to them, and here they are—hitting you and calling you that!"

"Please, Filia mama, don't worry about it," Val said quietly, "Besides, you shouldn't get so excited; we don't want your tail showing again."

Filia sighed once again. "I know, I know, but what am I supposed to do? I can't just let those little brats treat you like that! I just can't. How could I say that I love you if I just let them do that to you? I can't let that happen to you, Val. I just can't." Filia tightened her grip on Val's small hand, lowering her gaze to the ground. "I just don't know, Val. I want you to go out and have friends, to be happy. I want everyone to love you as much as I do, and I know you deserve that. But when I see this keep happening, I…I just don't know what's best for you."

"I'm happy in the shop, Filia mama. I talk to people there. I'll just come straight home from school instead, okay? Don't worry about me," he insisted.

Filia sighed, turning her gaze upward. "Oh, Ceipheed…this isn't what I wanted for you. I wanted you to be happy and loved and to just be a kid, for gods' sakes." She shook her head wearily, turning to look at Val as they walked. "But don't ever think I'm disappointed in you, Val. Don't ever think that! None of this is your fault. People are just fickle; sometimes they'll reject people for the silliest reasons. Please, always remember that you don't deserve any of this…you never did." Filia gave Val's hand an extra squeeze, the golden dragon feeling something in her heart tighten.

"Is that why you don't want anyone to know that we're dragons? Because they reject people like that?" he asked.

"Yes, Val, yes. I wanted to do everything for you, everything to make you happy. I know it can be a bit hard sometimes, keeping things from people like that…but if it means you'll be happy—"

"When we get home, will you tell me about Daddy?" Val asked innocently. The golden dragon abruptly stopped walking.

"Yes…" Filia answered with a trembling voice, "I'll tell you about Daddy." Val could feel her hand shaking in his. "Filia mama?" he asked cautiously, looking up at her. "Why are you crying, Filia mama?" he asked with concern, reaching up to her face with his free hand.

Filia sobbed, reaching up her hands and taking both of his in her own. "I'm sorry, Val…I'm sorry. It's just been a long day. Your Filia mama is just tired, that's all. And worried, worried about you. It's been such a long, long day for both of us. Let's not go back there, okay? It brings down the both of us. I won't have things like that happen to you, even if you have to stay at home forever. I'll find a way to make you happy, Val. Your Filia mama promises you."

Filia knelt down in the dirt and wrapped her arms around Val in a comforting embrace. He responded in kind, his hands gently threading through her long blond hair. "Your father…" she began, her voice slightly strained, "your father was a wonderful man. If he was alive today, there isn't a doubt in my mind that he would love you just as much as I do. He would be so proud of you, Val."

"But I'm just a kid. What have I done to be proud of?" Val asked.

"Oh, he would be proud of you, Val. Very proud. You're living a life he never had the chance to lead. Your father…had seen many bad things in his life, and he grew up very differently from you. But he didn't deserve any of it, just like you don't deserve to be hated by all the other children. He was a very sad man because of it; he was so haunted. Sometimes…I see you get that same sadness in your eyes that your father had, and it…it just makes me worry about you so much, Val. But he would love you and be so happy for you if he were here."

"Do I look like him?" Val asked excitedly, "I don't think I look at all like you do, Filia mama. Your wings are different, and your tail is different…"

Filia smiled wryly. "No, you don't look anything like me, do you?" She chuckled lightly. Thank the gods he was still so naïve. "Yes, you look exactly like your father. The very image. You'll look just like he did when you grow up, I'm sure of it."

"Now," Filia said, releasing her hold and rising to her feet, "I'll tell you more on the way home, if you want. Now, let's get home so I can start cooking dinner."

Val obeyed and again clasped his hand with Filia's. They began walking yet again, the wind now calming to a light breeze. She sighed, looking down at Val with a small smile. "Those ratty shorts. I don't know why you insist on wearing them," she said good-naturedly.

Val shrugged, simply replying, "They're comfortable."

"I know, I know. You always say that," Filia said, still smiling slightly. "I'm sorry I get a little riled up this morning about you wearing them. I just think they don't make the right impression, that's all. You understand, don't you?"

Val shrugged again. "You only have to stand them for a few months or so."

Filia sighed. "Yes, I suppose that's true." There was silence for a few minutes more.

"…You know, I really don't like the Bartrams," Val said, "At all. Pernella's sweet, but I hate the rest of them."

"Now, Val, you know what I say about the word 'hate'," Filia warned, "That's a strong word to use with people. Dislike is a more proper word. I know the Bartram's can be…vexing, but they still haven't done anything so serious as to warrant that word."

'Such as massacre an entire race of people,' Filia thought to herself.

"I know, I know," Val replied, "But they're so…horrible."

"I suppose they are," Filia agreed, "But it's strange. Calandra Bartram was so sweet and welcoming when we came." Filia sighed, shaking her head.

"I don't want to talk to them anymore," Val said, "But I'll miss Pernella."

"Yes, I will too. But maybe you can see her sometime after school," Filia suggested. Val was silent. Filia sighed, looking down at her blue gingham dress. Two dusty brown circles stained the front from when she had kneeled in the dirt to hug him. She frowned momentarily, then turned her head up to stare at the road ahead. They had entered into the merchant section of town, which meant home was near. Filia could see their shop sign just barely from here, with the mace and pink vase painted on the wood. It was a rather large structure for its kind, with wattle and daub serving as insulation between the wooden boards that covered the place inside and out. Filia could see Mr. Drumet's bread shop as well, the store being directly across from her own.

"My legs are beginning to cramp, Filia mama," Val mentioned, winced, "They feel stretched. Could I just run home real quick? I'll wait for you."

"No, no!" Filia said, "It'll only get worse if you do that. I bet it's because of all the running you did this afternoon. You have to remember not to overexert yourself; you know how your growing pains always get worse because of that. Just walk normally, Val. No, I see you speeding up! You may not be on your feet as long if you run, but you know that only makes it worse. Come on now, just walk normally and once you get inside you march straight on to bed. And I don't want to see you move an inch after that, Val. I'll bring anything you want: pencils, paper, books, anything."

"Thank you, Filia mama," Val murmured.

"You're welcome, Val. Now, see, we're there. You get into bed and I'll bring you something to do. What do you want, Val?" Filia opened the heavy wooden door, the 'closed' sign sent swinging. Bells tinkled to announce their arrival into the shop.

"Just my pencils and some paper," Val said. He then entered and quickly passed the numerous shelves full of maces and pottery, walking to the oak desk. Behind it was a door, the young dragon taking its bronze handle in his hand and turning. It opened with a slight creak. Val left the door open for Filia—who was only a few steps behind him—and entered.

Filia stopped to shut the door, watching Val speedily walk down the hallway towards his room. She lingered in the living room for a moment, the weak scent of potpourri wafting to her nose. She smiled; she was glad she had put the dried herbs a few days ago. She then stared disappointedly—as she always did—at the blank, white walls. Filia sighed. She had tried to decorate the room well: a pretty rug, a vase full of wildflowers, and the best furniture she could afford. None did anything to hide the wall's blandness. She needed something to decorate the walls with, anything to distract her eye. However, she knew hanging ornaments and paintings cost more money than she could spend right now. They had only been here a few years and had only paid off all expenses by the end of the second year. The town was entirely too close-knit, Filia feared; communities like this often did not accept newcomers so easily. Business was well enough, but certainly not as good as it should be. They were too reluctant to buy from unfamiliar people. Cities were often dirty and full of criminal element. She had wanted to live in a small town; all the better to raise—

"Filia mama? Are you coming?" Val inquired loudly from his bed.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Val, I got lost in thought. I'll be coming in a minute!" she shouted, turning back to walk into the shop. She opened the door and walked to the desk, opening and rifling through the drawers. She then found a stack of unused white paper, the golden dragon carefully taking it in her hands as she shut the drawer with a swing of her hips. She quickly walked back into the house portion of the structure, shutting the door behind her.

"I'm coming! I'm coming!" she called, walking back into the living room and into the hallway. The first door she encountered was Val's room, the door wide open. He lay on the wooden bed, nestled between dark blue sheets.

She walked towards him, nearly tripping over a stray stack of books. "Here you go, Val," she said cheerfully, placing the paper in his awaiting hands. He smiled, taking up a large book that had been leaning by the bed. Filia then turned to the pine dresser-drawer. On its top were stacked a random assortment of objects: little books, large books, scraps of used paper, lovely smoothed rocks from forest scavenging, old toys from younger days, and—of course—the pencils. Filia lifted them from the desk.

"You cleaned your room only a few days ago..." she muttered. Val looked up at her sheepishly. Filia sighed. "You've always been such a pack rat. Well, don't worry about it now. You can do that when you're feeling better...maybe tomorrow." She crouched down to hand the colored pencils to him.

Val took them and lay them on his dark blue sheets, the pencils rolling with his movements beneath the sheets. "Thank you, Filia mama."

"You're welcome, Val. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Val replied, purposely nondescript.

She didn't know why he felt the need to lie like that. "Well… you just stay here; I don't want it getting worse. Oh, how about I bring you some tea? I'll make your favorite."

"That'd be good," Val responded with a smile.

"Alright, I'll go make you some tea and start on dinner. I'm counting on you to draw something really nice when I get back," Filia said with an encouraging grin, turning and walking from his room. She sped through the hallway, passed the living room, and entered into the small dining room which adjoined the kitchen.

"Ah, Oneesan! How'd your visit go?" Jillas piped up from the dining room table, on which was sprawled several metal parts from his latest project. He sat there in the wooden dining room chair—which was far too big for the fox—turning a screwdriver into some mysterious metal contraption.

Filia sighed. "I don't think we'll be going back." She bustled over to her sky-blue tea rack, quickly finding the spice tea amongst the different varieties.

"That bad, eh?" said the fox man, his gloved hands picking up another shiny part from the table. "Them ladies in the village ain't too nice, if you ask me. But don't you worry about 'em, Oneesan. They're just jealous is all. You know how many men have been talking 'bout you? And I don't mean that gossip them ladies are always carrying on with, I mean real nice things, Oneesan. All a' them ladies are jealous 'cause they know they ain't as pretty as you! They don't like some pretty lady coming out a' nowhere and stealing all the hearts a' their men!"

A hint of pink appeared on Filia's cheeks as she placed the teapot on the stove. "I don't really do anything to…provoke that kind of attention," she huffed.

"Yeah, but you don't have to, Oneesan. Men got eyes."

"Well, that's just superficial!" Filia said indignantly, blush still apparent, "I mean, for so many men to focus their attention on a person just because of the way they look. What about how someone thinks and acts? Whatever happened to love? I could simply never associate myself with any of them; anyone who thinks so superficially is worth nothing to me."

"Surely you don't mean to stay all by ya' lonesome forever, Oneesan?" the fox man asked. "It's bad enough you ain't goin' to the Bartram's no more. The other women just ain't friendly to ya at all."

Filia paused for a moment--staring blankly at the tea rack--before turning to answer Jillas."Better to be alone than with someone I don't like. I mean…I suppose there are times when I think it would be nice, but… I'm happy like this. Really, all I need is you, Gravos, and Val. Besides, why is it so wrong for me to be alone? What about you Jillas? That a bit of a double-standard, isn't it?"

"Well, ain't too many foxes around here," Jillas replied, scratching the back of his furry head, "I'd prob'ly have to leave the village for that, and I wouldn't leave Valga—Val for anything. My loyalty to 'im don't waver!"

"Well, I feel the same way," Filia said, happy to have tied up the discussion. Smiling, she took a few steps towards the small cupboard, threw open its door, and began sorting out what would be needed for dinner.

* * *

The sound of stone sliding against stone echoed into the darkness. Next came a voice, loud and demanding: "Lighting!" A ball of white light appeared, hovering over a hand of stone and blue-tinted skin. The hand thrust the glowing ball towards the high, stone ceiling, it stopping and hovering there once it reached the top.

"Ah," he said to himself as he stepped off the narrow stone stairway. Finally, he had found the deepest chamber; he afforded himself a small smile before quickly walking to the rows of bookcases. Many of the books looked as if they were about to crumble with age, their pages sallowed yellow and their covers caked with dust. The shelves themselves were weak and termite-ridden. The air in the chamber was so dusty and cloying that it was a wonder that anything could breathe in such a space. A large wooden table was placed in front of the rows of shelves. Atop it lay a few books, a candle, and a few magical implements covered with dust and cobwebs. Searching through all those books would take him hours, at the very least; of course, that never mattered much to him. Slowly he began scanning the titles, determining which would be useful to him. Books of various languages began accumulating in his arms. Once he could no longer hold anymore, he walked over to the table, swept away whatever dust he could, and dropped them over its wooden surface.

"Here we go again," he muttered to himself as he sat down and opened one of the numerous tomes.

* * *

"Val, supper's ready!" Filia said, taking another sip of tea from her cup. She had to walk into the hallway for any messsage, long ago learning that he couldn't hear her from the kitchen no matter how loudly she called. But she was certain he had heard her through the closed door. Besides, sometimes he liked to finish up his sketch before he went to eat.

Filia was about to turn around and walk back to the kitchen when she noticed an odd scratching sound coming from Val's room. She quirked a brow, taking another sip of her tea. "Val? Are you okay?" She walked to the door, pushing it open with her hand.

The teacup fell to the ground and shattered. Red raspberry tea spread over the floor. Val's eyes were blank, unmoving, not even looking at what he was drawing. His head was tilted slightly upward, mouth agape. "Val!" Filia screamed. His hand moved feverishly, frantically, as if drawing on its own accord. It continued to trace over the same lines. "VAL!" No trances in the Temple of the Fire Dragon Kind had ever been this deep, this frightening.

Filia thrust her arms around him, shaking him furiously. She forced the drawing board from his hands. His eyes remained blank. Val's mouth formed silent syllables which Filia could not recognize. His hands now shook uselessly.

"What's wrong?" Jillas asked as he suddenly rushed in, "What's wrong wit' 'em?"

Filia didn't know. "Val! Val!" she continued. She shook him desperately. Val's body bobbed back and forth like a rag doll. "VAL!" Her voice was shrill, piercing. "Val! Gods, Val! Answer me! ANSWER ME!" Her chest heaved.

"Val!" Jillas yelled. The fox put his hands on the boy. "C'mon buddy, wake up! Wake up!"

Only Val's mouth moved, continuing to form words long dead. She pressed her head to the boy's shoulder. "Gods, help me," she whispered helplessly. "Someone help me…Valvazard, Ceipheed, Volphied…"

Val's eyes slowly began to focus, blinking as comprehension finally returned to his mind. "Filia mama…" he muttered slowly as she realized she was clutching him fiercely. "Filia mama?"

Filia's head slowly rose, staring back at him with anxious eyes. Her face softened, a smile of relief spreading across her face. "Thank the gods!" she cried, softly hugging the boy to her.

"Ya had us worried there, buddy," Jillas said with a relieved smile.

"What happened?" Val asked, confused, "I don't remember doing anything."

"Ya blanked out there or somethin'. I'm not quite sure."

Filia sniffled, lifting herself away from Val. She took a deep breath to calm herself, staring at Val as if to assure herself of his well-being. "It was a trance," she said. "I've had to do it many times before. But…they aren't supposed to be like this." Filia's eyes wandered to the ground, the drawing board and paper spread over the floor. A few pieces were stained with raspberry tea, Filia having stepped on the puddle and smeared it in her excitement. Her brows creased. She picked up the paper which he had been drawing on. "Strange…what is this?" she whispered to herself fearfully.

"Looks almost like some weird family crest, it does," Jillas said, his one good eye peering at the sketch.

"Crest?" Filia asked, her voice a mixture of confusion and dread. The image was clear, even though the lines had been redrawn over and over again. It was circular, with strange markings inside of it. "I don't understand…"

"Who did that?" Val asked curiously.

"Why, you did!" Jillas said. "Ya must really not remember anythin'."

Filia carefully folded the piece of paper into a small square. It didn't seem like there was any way to find out what had just happened. "Val?"

"Yes, Filia mama?"

"Do you remember anything? Anything at all? Did you see anything? Feel anything?"

"Um…" Val thought for a moment. "No. Not really. A second ago I was drawing, and then you were hugging me. I don't remember anything else."

Filia sighed. "Well…" she said, pausing, "I suppose there's not much else we can do for now. Dinner's on the table, Val."

* * *

A blue hand rasped across a clean, new book. Well, comparatively new. This was the only book he had found that looked like it was made in the past forty years. The rest had nearly fell apart in his hands. "Odd. It doesn't seem like him to be interested in something recent." He flipped it open. "Could it be some recent alchemical discovery?"

His eyes lay upon the familiar script of his great-grandfather, each few pages carefully dated. His face fell. "Didn't seem like the type to keep a diary," he muttered to himself. His eyes scanned across the first entry, and suddenly it occured to him why he wrote it. "I see. Charting his findings. This may prove useful after all."

Reading the diary was a test in itself. In order to find what he needed, he would have to see the true thoughts of his enemy. He would have to either block out his words altogether, or admit that the man he vilified was a person after all. Bared for him were his insecurities, his bottled feelings, his inner moments of ugliness and beauty. Each great discovery was met by his great-grandfather with excitement, then suddenly dissapointment at its failure in a cure. Little notes were written about his servants--their moods, peculiarities, and his earnest but kind way of pushing them forward. His knowledge of magic was vast in all forms, often puzzling the young man reading it. Finally, he came to his great-grandfather's final entry, made only a few days before that infamous day he had deformed his great-grandson with magic.

"When I was younger, I thought I could heal the entire world with magic. When you're the helpless little blind boy who everyone ignores, learning that you could do things others could not was simply amazing. Learning that you could be the hero afterall. But I cannot forget my mother's dissapointment at what hand fate had dealt me. I cannot forget, and I cannot rectify it. She encouraged me to learn magic. She was the one who was proudest of all. I have been able to raise myself from a helpless, sightless boy to a healer with the astral sight. My name ranks amongst the greatest of mages. I have cured thousands. I also cannot forget that she died whilst I was gone, off to learn more spells that might cure my eyes.

"I have lived far too long. Actions and ideas of my youth only haunt me. I ignored others for the sake of my work. No matter my skill, I could not help the ones I cared about. I thought the Elixir of Life would make me happy and youthful forever, never desiring the grave. I have grown old inside this skin.

"I have dug myself a hole too deep. My only choice left is to continue onward.

"As I said, I once thought that magic could fix everything. Magic will not fix you, Zelgadis. It is an aid, not a cure." He quirked a brow, mumbled irritably to himself, and continued reading. "Your problem runs deeper. You remind me sometimes of myself. Nothing both fills me with joy and fear than that knowledge. I hope you find this someday. I hope you someday understand. But I hope--most of all--that you will be a better man than me and be able to cure yourself. Magic is the aid, not the cure. It would soothe my soul if I finally was able to help someone I cared about."

The entry ended. He flipped to new pages, only to find them blank. The book smacked across the opposite wall. "Bastard."

* * *

"Can't sleep, Oneesan?" Jillas asked as he walked into the dimly lit kitchen. Filia sat there in her pale blue nightgown, sipping her cup of tea by the light of a single candle.

"Camomile usually gets me to sleep. I'll be fine in no time," she said, daintily taking another sip.

"You've been havin' to drink a lot of it," Jillas remarked, pulling a chair away from the dining table and throwing himself into it.

"You have a hard time sleeping too sometimes."

"That's cuz a' Gravos's snorin'. I can hear it in the next room," the fox nodded, "I can sleep through it usually, but..."

"I could switch your room with one of the storage rooms, if you'd like," she stopped, taking another sip of her tea, "I have no idea why whoever lived here before had so many rooms made."

"Villagers say it was the Hiltraud place. Widow just abandoned it for the boonies, I hear. Ya could ask her, if ya really wanna know."

Filia sighed wearily. "That was the last thing I needed to hear." She looked down into her tea.

"Waddaya mean by that, Oneesan?" The fox quirked a furry brow.

"I just worry about Val. Being reminded of what happened to the Widow's son doesn't exactly improve matters," Filia took another sip of tea, her face turning to irritation. "It's bad enough to feel like we're inheriting that legacy just by living here. The ostracized widow with a 'bewitched' son. Although Hiltraud probably actually had a husband, instead of one she made up."

"I'll admit it's partially me n' Gravos to blame. Village folk ain't used to our kind, and--"

"No, Jillas, don't apologize. It's not you or Gravos's fault. I should have known. I should have given in and just lived in a city. We wouldn't be having these problems there."

Jillas gently placed his paw on Filia's shoulder. "We all tried our best, Oneesan. Ain't no one who knows the future."

Filia said nothing for a moment. She simply stared into the small candle flame, watching it wave and flicker."Sometimes I wonder if I've traded one life of lies for another," she said, setting down the mug of tea on the dining table, "Look at me. I'm a 'human' with an imaginary, dead husband. Val doesn't know anything that's going on, much less that he's a completely different race of dragon than his 'mother.' And only Ceipheed knows what's wrong with Val. I hope to Ceipheed that Ancients age unusually quickly when they're young. I hope to Ceipheed. And I simply don't know what to make of what happened today."

"We couldn't have it any other way, Oneesan. Besides, I bet if Val's real mother was lookin' down on us right now, she'd be darn happy."

Filia sighed, pausing to take another sip of tea. "I think about her...sometimes. I wonder what she was like. Wonder if she looked like Val. What their life was like. You know...things like that."

"Ya know, it's not a crime if Val calls ya just 'Mommy.'" Jillas mentioned.

"But I'm not his mother. She is. I won't tarnish her." Filia sighed as she stared at her empty cup. She lifted herself up from the chair and carried the sullied mug to the sink. "I think I'll try to go to sleep again. The cup of Chamomile should do the trick." Her ruffled nightgown swayed with her movements as she walked to the table, her hand lifting up the candleholder.

"Could ya leave it, Oneesan? I might brew meself some of that stuff. I'll try anythin' to get through that snorin.'"

Filia smiled and put the candleholder back. "Certainly, Jillas. Hope it works for you. Good night!"

"You too, Oneesan!"

Filia walked through the living room, walking slowly to accustom her eyes to the darkness. It took little time for her to see and know her surroundings once her eyes had focused, her years of living in the house making it simple. She reached the hallway and paused for a moment at Val's door. She stared for only a moment before walking on to her own room. 'Don't be silly. Only real mothers have mother's intuition. You're just being irrational, Filia. Nothing's wrong.'

Val stirred, squinty eyes forced open. He winced when consciousness brought back the growing pains in his legs. When the pain flared, it was difficult to concentrate on much else. But the two familiar forms in the darkness demanded his attention. "Uncle?"

"Yes, Val, I'm back again." Val could almost hear the man's smile through his voice. "I wouldn't neglect my favorite little poppet, would I?" The talking figure pushed the second figure forward slightly. They both walked forward, the second seeming more lumbering and reluctant than the first. The second knelt before Val's bed, a spell already forming in his hands. By the light of it, Val could see the man. He had a wrinkle here and there, enough to look roughly middle-aged. Pointed ears poked out of dark hair. He looked solemn as he applied the spell to Val, but the boy had never seen him with any other expression. He had never asked the man's name. The man had never given it either.

All Val could make out of "Uncle" were a pair of tan boots and black pants. "Uncle, why do you always do this? Why can't we play another game instead?"

"I've already told you, Val! It'll make you grow up big and strong. You want that, don't you? I only want the best for my favorite poppet."

"But what is it?"

The man giggled slightly. "That, my dear Val, is a secret."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Indehiscent

* * *

"Class dismissed."

The room became a whirlwind of slamming books and escaping children. Small chalk tablets were dusted clean and shoved under their arms as they rushed out the door. The cacophony of excited laughter replaced the droll of the teacher's voice and the steady, constant tapping of chalk against blackboard. Slowly, the sound and motion of whirling bodies began to dissipate.

The teacher and Val were all that were left, the boy hunched over his chalk tablet as he carefully wiped it clean and began piling his books. She walked towards his desk.

"Val?"

He looked up, startled. His eyes were transfixed on her but he said nothing. He sat there silent and scared for a moment before stuttering, "Y-yes?"

"Are you staying after school again?" she asked, sounding incredulous as she crouched down to his eye-level. She had a young, soft face with babyish features that only enhanced her expression of concern. Wavy, red-brown hair framed her face and splayed down her back. "I don't see why you always want me to tutor you. You certainly don't need it."

Val said nothing. He stopped shuffling his books and simply stood still. His head turned down towards his lap.

"You don't have to feel ashamed," she said, taking the hand off the top of her thigh and placing it on his shoulder. "Lots of children get teased. You just need to learn to stand up for yourself."

Val said nothing, but wanted so much to tell her. He wanted to tell her about the dragon-strength that rippled through him, the warnings of Filia-mama, the child he hurt without even meaning to. He knew she guessed something was amiss, had to, since everyone else did. She was the one who had to move him up a learning grade every few months just to keep up with his physical growth. He wanted to tell someone so much, but especially her.

"Come on, you've been so shy lately. Anything wrong?" she asked. He said nothing. "Just the usual? Then come on, let me walk you home. Neither of us need to stay here and review the same concepts when we both know that's not why you're here."

Val's head shot up to look at her, a hint of pink crossing his cheeks. "I-if I've been bothering you, then–"

"Nonsense!" she said, dismissing his concerns with a gesture of the hand. "Why wouldn't I want to spend time with my star pupil? You're a smart boy! I swear, Val, sometimes it's like I'm talking to a grown-up!" She giggled and gestured for him to rise from his desk. "That's why they tease you so much; they're just jealous."

Val appreciated the lie. "Thank you, Ms. Alavaine." He stood up hesitantly.

"Oh, but it's the truth! Don't thank me for being truthful!" she said, ushering him towards the door. They walked into the sunlight together.

The schoolyard was deserted; no child was foolish enough to stay and play where they had just been cooped up for hours, as if a subconscious fear that they would be suddenly dragged back in. Ms. Alavaine's green and white dress whirled about in the breeze. She took one hand away from her load of books, pushed the heavy weight against her breast, and delicately placed her free hand over her skirt to calm it.

"Uh, I can help you carry your books," Val said sheepishly. "It's really the least I can do."

"No, no, I'm fine," she said, still struggling against the wind. "Thank you though, Val."

"Really, it'd be nothing," he said, finally working up the courage to look at her again. Another load of books would just be slightly awkward to balance against his small body, but the weight was simply not a consideration. "You're obviously having trouble."

Ms. Alavaine sighed and relented. "If you really insist," she said, carefully stacking her own books against his chest. "But no extra points for you!" she teased.

"Fine with me," Val replied, smiling broadly as he balanced the books. They walked side-by-side along the dirt road.

"I've seen your house before, but I haven't had a reason to stop by," she said casually.

"I understand," Val said quietly. He could see the shop's sign off in the distance. "A lot of people don't want to buy from us."

"Oh, no, its not like that!" she replied quickly, "I don't put any stock in rumors! It's just that I can't afford much on my salary; most of my china are just heirlooms from my mother. I would have come earlier if I could. I really am excited to finally come to your house, really talk to your paren–ah, Mom." She drew closer to him, eager to change the subject. "So what's she like?"

"Oh, um...she's really nice."

"She seems like it. I've only talked to her briefly, when you first came to school. Maybe a little weary, but settling into a new place is never easy."

"I guess so." He gave her a quick, sidelong glance and struggled to think of something to say. "I, uh, I think I did well on the last test." He mentally cursed himself for not thinking of something better.

"Oh, yes! I've graded about half of them, and yours was one of the best so far," she said brightly.

"Good afternoon, Val!" yelled Mr. Drumet, the widower calling out from the door of his bread shop.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Drumet," Val said politely. He didn't want anyone interrupting their walk, and the older man always felt oddly cloying.

"How's your Mom doing?" he said, overly eager. "Still working away, huh?"

"I guess so," Val replied, inching towards the door of the shop.

"A real hard worker, she is. A sweet thing like that running a shop, why, I'm surprised you're not rich as kings!" When he laughed, his slight paunch bounced with each chortle.

"Uh, thank you, Mr. Drumet," said Val awkwardly, "I'm bringing my teacher to meet her, so uh, I'll talk to you later."

"Alright, Val!" he said, waving back at him. "You give your Mom a big kiss for me!"

"Uh, sure," he muttered before quickly escaping with Ms. Alavaine back into the shop. A bell attached to the door tinkled to signal their arrival.

"He seems like a sweet man," said Ms. Alavaine, oblivious.

"I guess," he replied vaguely as he led the teacher through the front-part of the building. "Filia-mama!" he called, looking around for her.

The door to the back part of the house swung open. "We've got some lovely merchandise out right now, so tell me if–Oh," she said, her broad salesman-smile fading into an expression of recognition. Her hands and apron were caked with clay, obviously having been interrupted at the potter's wheel. "You're home awfully early, Val. Oh, I remember you! You're Val's teacher!" A sheepish smile swept onto her face. "Well, would you look at me, I'm a mess! Please excuse my appearance."

"Oh, it's fine! I really should have told you before just showing up," said Ms. Alavaine.

"No, no, feel free! This really is a pleasure. Please, come into the living room," Filia said, opening the door behind the sales-counter and ushering the teacher into the separate part of the house. Val followed behind her and put down the books down on the coffee table.

Mrs. Alavaine sat down on the overstuffed sofa. "You have such a lovely home," she said.

"Oh, please, you flatter me!" Filia said with a smile, chuckling nervously. "I'll go clean myself off and make us some tea. Val, I'm sure you can entertain Mrs. Alavaine until I'm back." Val's head suddenly snapped up to look at Filia, an expression of fear crossing his face.

"Please, call me Mercilla," she said cheerily.

"Certainly!" Filia answered, a little too excited at the simple act of friendliness. "I'll be right back with our tea." She turned to walk towards the kitchen, humming as she hurried off.

Val gave Mercilla a side-long glance before awkwardly sitting down next to her on the sofa. He tried to pretend that he was interested in the vase of flowers on the coffee table.

"So, Val, what do you like to do?"

"I, er...what do you mean?"

"You know, for fun! Do you have any hobbies? I'm sure you can't just be doing my homework all day," she said with a giggle.

"I...well, I like to draw. I draw a lot," he said, now finally looking her in the face.

"That's great! Do you have any I could look at? I'd really like to see."

"I, uh..." Val stammered, suddenly seized with fear of judgement. "They're not that good, really. They're just shoved away somewhere. Umm...do you have a hobby? I mean, you've got to do something other than grade papers, right?" Val tried to chuckle, but it only came out sounding forced.

She shrugged. "I just knit; nothing really interesting for a boy. But if you wouldn't mind, could I see your drawings?"

Val stammered wordlessly for a moment before Filia returned. "Oh, I'll get them for you!" she said cheerfully, "Val's so good at it! Oh, and there's some drawings he did as a toddler that are just marvelous! I don't mean to brag, but he's always been quite talented."

Val's mouth dropped open and simply hung there as he looked at Filia.

"Oh, I'm certainly not surprised; Val does so well in class, it only makes sense he'd be gifted at that. He's already reading and learning spells far above his age. Why, sometimes it almost seems as if he's learned everything before!"

It was now Filia's turn to smile awkwardly, Mercilla's last statement making her look at Val suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. "Yes, I'm quite proud of him," she answered quickly, then changed the subject, "Anyway, I'm so sorry, but I remembered that we're all out of teabiscuits," she said to Mercilla, then turned to Val, "Would you run down to the market and get some?"

Val nodded as Filia tucked a few bronze pieces into his hand. "Try to be quick now," Filia warned. He nodded and turned to the door, leaving Filia to entertain his teacher. He walked out into the shop and back into the street again, the bell attached to the door ringing to signal his departure.

He knew the way perfectly; Harund Delandas's store sold them. It was near the other side of the market district, next to Mrs. Sauclon's alehouse. Knowing his hurry, he quickened his pace and began running across the dusty roads.

"Val!" a feminine voice called out. He turned to see Mr. Drumet's daughter Diota standing near the ditch, waving to him. She was only a year or so younger than Val looked, with a wispy blond braid and wide hazel eyes. She caught up with him easily, the tom-boy used to the exertion.

Val had to admit that he was a bit uneasy around her now, their friendship becoming oddly strained. Only a year ago she was still like a big sister, trying her best to shield him from bullies and teaching him how to climb trees. Now he was taller and looked older than her. Nevertheless, all they had were each other for companionship. Her frock was dusty and worn from fishing and crawling through underbrush, the other girls always tittering behind their hands at her clothes and odd habits. The boys wanted even less to do with her, just like they treated any other girl. With no mother to scold her unladylike behavior, Diota had grown wild and untamed in her absence.

"Where have you been?" she asked, "I haven't seen you around."

"Oh, just..." Val said, feeling a bit guilty for having shut himself inside so much, "Staying for tutoring, helping Filia-mama around in the shop. Nothing big."

Diota studied his face for a moment in silence. "You shouldn't coop yourself up! Come on, let's go to the woods. The secret spot. None of the other kids'll find us."

Val knew why that last statement was important. "Sorry, I've got to run an errand. Ms. Alavaine's visiting, and we ran out of teabiscuits."

Diota winced. "Tough break. Did you do something wrong in class?"

Val didn't think it was such a cruel fate. In truth, he knew the tutoring after school wasn't just for avoiding bullies. He shrugged his shoulders. "Nah, I just think she really hasn't talked to Filia-mama much, so..."

Diota sighed. "Well, fine, I guess I can understand that. I'll walk with you if you want, but you've got to promise to actually go outdoors tomorrow."

"Meet me in the schoolyard?"

"Sure."

She smiled, her nose crinkling up as she did. "So I was thinking we could check out that abandoned shack."

"It's probably just filled with farming tools, you know."

"Aw, where's your sense of adventure?" she said as she clapped him on the back, "You're taking all the fun out of it! Besides, unless you've got any better ideas, I'd say–" She was cut short as four boys suddenly stepped into their path and stood still, arms folded. "Damn," she muttered, brows knitting close. She pulled Val's arm with her as she tried to step off to the side, but was soon packed inward when one of the boy shifted to keep her back. "Let us through!" she demanded.

They snickered. "So a girl's fighting your battles now?"

"It's just as well, he is only a _baby!_" another said. More snickering. Val's eyes narrowed.

"You guys are the ones being childish!" she yelled as she tried to muscle her way through them, scraping shoulder against shoulder. One swift hit knocked her down into Val, sending them falling to the ground. He clutched Diota in an attempt to save her from the impact, gasping slightly as his back hit the earth hard. The boys erupted in laughter. Val growled instinctively.

"What's the matter? Baby gonna cry?"one of them said, calling forth more cackles. Val craned his neck to look for adults who might help him. They walked by them in the market street, purposely avoiding his gaze.

A boy reached out and grabbed her. "Let go!" she screeched as she tried to claw his hand away. He twisted sharply. Diota cried out in pain.

Val bared his fangs and snarled, a low rumbling from the depths of this throat. He immediately grabbed the boy's arm and crushed the bone beneath his fingers. The boy screamed as he wilted away into the dust. The others stood there for a moment in shock, the severity of the situation freezing them still. They then shrieked and lunged towards Val, eager to avenge.

"Ansgar!" a voice called. The boys suddenly looked up with fear. Their faces fell as they immediately scrambled backwards. Two of them picked up the injured boy and ran as fast as their burden would allow, the fourth quickly abandoning his companions altogether. "Widow Hiltraud!" they squealed.

Val looked up to see a woman with wild, long grey locks, little of it being kept in the bun on top of her head. Her clothes were black from mourning, worn threadbare from years of use. Something in her eyes suggested a strange mental detachment, blank and unusually still like the eyes of the blind. "Ansgar, you've worried me half to death!" she said, obviously upset.

Val looked up at her, thoroughly confused. His rage had by now mostly worn off, his mind now reeling from having to deal with the shame of his reaction and the strange woman now staring him down. "I...uhh..."

She took him by the hand. "Don't worry, Momma's not mad at you. I'm just glad to see that you're alright."

Val's eyes widened. "No, I'm sorry, I...I think you've confused me with someone else."

"I told you, Ansgar, I'm not mad; there's no need for that. Now come on. I just have to pick up a few things, and then we'll get you straight home." She lifted Val up and slowly dragged him off. He struggled to hold onto Diota, the three making a walking chain across the market.

"What's going on?" Diota whispered angrily.

"I don't know!" he whispered back, growing more and more worried.

"You mean that you can break a kid's arm but not get out of an old lady's hand?" she shot back, "I mean, I know she's probably got magical powers and all, but so do you, right? I mean, you never told _me_ you could break a kid's arm." Finally the adults began to pay attention to them, many stopping and staring as the two were dragged along.

"She does not have magical powers!" Val huffed. At least, he was pretty sure she didn't. He hoped she didn't. He gulped. "And I just got lucky, that's all. You know I'm not that strong."

"You don't get lucky when you break someone's arm in your hand, nitwit!" she spat, still whispering.

"What's all that noise you're making, Ansgar?"

"Er, nothing!"he replied hurriedly.

The old woman pulled them alongside a market stall and began inspecting squash. The seller looked warily at her but she didn't seem to notice. She pressed her hands up against its rough hide and held the vegetable aloft, squinting to find an imperfection.

"We have to get out of here," Diota whispered as she tugged at his arm, "Let go of her!"

"I can't!" Val said, trying to think up a reason that would appease her. He somehow knew that just feeling sorry for the delusional widow simply wouldn't be good enough. "You saw how scared they were of her. They won't dare come back as long as she's around."

"You hurt that kid, Val," Diota said, exasperated. "It won't be them looking for us, it'll be their parents. They're not that scared of her; they'll come looking here."Val sighed.

"We'll have a grand dinner tonight!" said the old woman excitedly, slipping the squash in her burlap shopping bag. "It'll be a celebration, yes, just like it used to be, Ansgar." She looked down suddenly, as if finally realizing Diota was there. "Your little blond girlfriend can come too, if you'd like."

Val's jaw dropped. This day could not possibly get any worse. "No, you don't...I mean, she's not...I..." He found that nothing of substance could form in his muddled brain.

Diota jabbed him in the side a little too angrily. "Don't just stand there, _Ansgar_," she muttered, "Do something!"

Val stared back and forth at the two for a moment, utterly lost. After a few moments, he hesitantly tugged on the old woman's hand. "Uh, Mamma, we've got to get something in Mr. Delandas's shop, remember?"

The old woman looked at him quizzically. "What could I be forgetting?"

"You, uh, told me to remind you to go. I can't remember what you needed, but, um, I'm sure we'll find it when we get there!" He tugged her towards the shop he needed, trying to use only enough strength to move her quickly and not enough to hurt her.

"Come on, Mamma!"

"Wait, Ansgar, wait!" she cried, obviously confused as she was dragged across the market.

'No time,' Val thought as he frantically looked across the market, trying to seek out any sign that they were about to be ambushed by angry parents. He sprinted into the store as quickly as his two burdens would allow.

"They'll still look in here, Val!" Diota said, her hands balled into fists once she finally loosened her grip on his. "I'm telling you, we need to go to the secret spot! They'll only keep looking!"

Val eyes searched the room, obviously uneasy. "Look, it'll keep us out of sight long enough for me to get what I came for, then you can run off for the woods and–"

She huffed. "You mean to tell me that we're only here to fetch your Mom's teabiscuits? You're an _idiot_!"

Val's eyes narrowed. "If I don't bring it back, she'll know something happened. I'll get into even more trouble if I just hide." Filia would certainly be angry, but he knew little of that anger would be focused on him if she knew he had been bullied. Hiding just indicated guilt. "We're going to get punished eventually, Diota. It's not like we can run away."

She huffed again, knowing he was right. Still, it didn't mean they couldn't postpone the inevitable for a few hours of fun. "You're just impossible."

"Ansgar," the old woman said as she bent down slightly to look at him, the action slightly shaky from her old bones, "How many times do I have to tell you that there's no need to rush?" Her face softened, the wrinkles creasing with some unidentifiable emotion. "Not everything is going to go away, child," she lied.

Val truly knew nothing to say to that. He simply stared up at her for a moment before managing a weak, "Okay?"

Satisfied, the widow stood straight up again. "Now, let's see, if I've forgotten to get something here..." She scratched the mass of tangled grey on top of her head and turned to stare at the shelves.

"Just have to get one thing, then we'll go," Val promised with an uneasy smile to the irritated Diota, then ran off towards a shelf to pick out the necessary goods.

* * *

Amelia sighed, tapping her fingernails against the desk. 'Right,' she thought, trying to rally herself to the task, 'Very important that I read the rest of these documents. I promised Daddy I'd do it. Very, very important business.' She cleared her throat–as if trying to further convince herself of her duty's magnitude–and started reading again. 'The party of the first part testifies that the boundary of the westernmost portion of Saillune is contested under the Elmekia Treaty of...' Ah, border dispute; so that was what this was about. Amelia had read half-way into the first page without understanding much of it. She smirked as she was reminded of the warring towns that she and Miss Lina's gang had encountered, the two ceaselessly demolishing and rebuilding without a further explanation than grudge.

Wait, what she reading again? Boundary dispute, right. She sighed and slumped back into her desk. She had a fine time throwing herself into work only a few months ago, but now her concentration was gone. Since she had long returned from her journeys and "matured," her councillors saw fit to embroil her in more royal duties. Namely, paperwork and boring meetings. She handled it fine for a few years, but she was slowly becoming more and more listless. She couldn't count the amount of times a councillor caught her staring out her window and into the garden, eyes far, far away from here.

Perhaps she could go on a progress. Yes, a progress across the kingdom! That would get her out of the castle, and she could say that she was fostering diplomatic relations with her subjects. Although, in truth, the prospect was not as appealing as it should be. She knew from previous trips that it mostly entailed cooping herself in castle after castle. Their councillors had become more and more resistant to her and her father's inconspicuous travels, given the increasing perils that had threatened to spill their royal blood. 'Still,' she thought, 'As scary as it was, it at least made things interesting.' She could clearly hear the alternative in her head now: Greetings, princess! Would you like to go hawking, princess? A ball in your honor, princess! Perhaps crochet, princess? We can make jokes about the peasants while you take your shot! Oh, and perhaps you'd like to meet my rude but perfectly marriageable son, princess?

She picked at a piece of lint on her gown. There was no helping it then; she was simply going to have to endure. The door creaked as one of her councillors walked into the room. Amelia immediately began shuffling papers importantly.

He gave her a quick withering glance, having dealt with the princess's recent moods long enough to know when she was avoiding work. "Your Grace, are you sure there is not something troubling you?"

Amelia looked up at him with surprise. She had expected a scolding, an inquisition, an exasperated rolling of the eyes. Anything but that. She blinked rapidly for a moment. "I...er...I just need a break, I suppose."

"Oh, well, perhaps a progress would lift Your Grace's spiri–"

Amelia shook her head. The prospect was even starting to look more annoying than staying here.

"Well, then a ball! Your Grace always seems so much happier before the Yule Ball, after all."

"Well, yes," Amelia answered, "but that's because Miss Lina and the others always come."

"Lina?" the councillor wrinkled his nose. "The one who got drunk and threw up in the rose bushes?"

Amelia sighed wistfully, then suddenly snapped to her senses. If she was becoming sentimental over an incident like that, she truly did need a break. "In any case, thank you for your concern, but I don't think the situation can be helped."

The councillor nodded. "Well, Your Grace's appointment with the representative from the Alliance of Coastal States will be in thirty minutes. I will leave you alone to prepare," he said as he turned and left.

She rose from her chair once she heard the door creak into place, the heavy bracelet jewel swinging the jewelry around the underside of her wrist as she did so. She stopped for a moment to slip it back into place. The blue jewel gleamed, flashing the pentacle in its center. It would be sensible to replace it with a lighter one, given its heavy burden and that it always drew her attention to the fact that the other was missing. She wondered where its mate was, near or across the continent? She briefly considered the sad prospect that he had tossed it into a sand dune, or that he had lost the jewelry in a fight along with his life. She shook her head as if it would dispel her thoughts. She was far too distracted already; she should take it off her wrist and use another bracelet.

She should. But she wouldn't.

* * *

Filia crept into Val's room, the boy already lying in bed. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," she said, slightly sheepish.

Val said nothing for a moment. "I knew you didn't mean it."

She drew up her nightgown to sit on the side of his bed. "I know it was an accident," she said, putting a hand on his back to reassure him. "I mean, I don't mean to show my tail, but sometimes it just happens. It's hard disguising what we are. And you're just a kid, you're still learning how to control things, and..." Filia drifted off, not sure anymore which of them she was trying to comfort. She looked at him and tried to smile. "I should have sent Jillas or Gravos to do it. Those bullies just keep pestering you, and there's not much you can do except take it if you want to hide your strength, and that's just unfair to you to expect that..."

Val's mouth made the smallest of smiles. The subject of fairness always seemed to keep her talking for some reason. "I didn't want it to go that far, but...well, at least they should be leaving me alone for a while."

Filia frowned slightly. "Ignoring you isn't that much better, Val." He simply shrugged his shoulders. Her frown deepened. Even though Val was hers, it mildly disturbed her sometimes how unconcerned he could be towards everything. To most kids, this would be a veritable crisis. The times he was discouraged, she could tell he tried to hide it well. Sometimes it seemed like no amount of "You know you can talk to me, Val"speeches could change that. He somehow appeared even more cryptic when he was happy, his half-lidded golden eyes and sly smile looking as if he had just discovered a secret to taunt you with.

She pressed his face into her shoulder and hugged her close to him, as if her affection could make up for everyone else. "I love you, Val," she spoke into his ear.

"I love you too, Filia-mama," he said as his arms closed around her.

She raised her head to gently kiss him on the forehead. "Don't think about this anymore," she breathed, running a hand through his hair. "Don't worry about it. We'll protect you." She slowly drew away from him. "Have sweet dreams, Val."

"You too, Filia-mama," he said as he burrowed further into the covers. She smiled and blew out the candle, closing the door before walking off to her own room.

Val was just dosing off as Uncle finally came. His eyes fluttered open as he heard the rustling in the corner. Val had never been able to see in the darkness how Uncle always managed to enter the room. "How is my favorite little boy tonight?"

"I..." he stumbled, "I don't think I want to get any bigger or stronger, Uncle. I know you mean well, but..."

Uncle didn't even skip a beat. "Oh my, did something happen?" He drew closer to the bed, the nameless sorcerer companion following suit. "You musn't keep yourself back because of others. They are only jealous of you."

Val thought for a moment, having remembered Filia and Ms. Alavaine saying something similar before. He wondered how Uncle seemed to know more than he told him, but knew that Uncle usually had an odd way of learning things."But I don't know if I should have broken his arm..."

"Val, would you rather always be hurt? Why, if they had an Uncle like me to help them, they'd have broken every bone in your body! The world works like that, dear Val." Underneath the cloak of darkness, his smile became vulpine. "Someday," Uncle said, his voice drawing oddly darker, "You will understand this."

"I guess so," Val said, knowing his own innocence in the adult world. If his childhood was this full of fights, the larger world must be so much worse. "I...nevermind."

"Good," Uncle said, Val swearing he could hear the cheery smile in his voice. "Now, Val, tonight is a big night. Since you've been so good, I think you deserve to get a big boost." The companion lurched towards Val, his arms drawing up to ready a spell.

Val said nothing for a moment. He was already frightened of his strength now, so the idea of becoming even more powerful filled him with disquiet. But Uncle had been with him forever, was trying to help him; he knew he really had no reason to fear. "Alright," he finally said, "I'll do it."

"It may hurt a bit," Uncle warned, "But it'll be worth it."

The sorcerer whispered words to himself. They always had the same cadence, but Val could never make out the words. The familiar burst of light came to life, allowing him to look at the sorcerer's face once again. The man seemed sterner this time. He suddenly looked up at Val, something he had never done. There was something in his eyes that Val could not identify.

"Yes, this is the first step," Uncle began again, sounding more like a gloat now than an explanation. The light of the spell was never bright enough for Val to see much of Uncle, just the outline of lilac gloves, black pants, and tan boots. "If you follow me, Val, you'll have everything you could possibly desire."

Val's eyes went wide as he felt pain starting to rip through his limps. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out. It felt like the soreness of growing pains, but so much worse. He thrust his head hard against the pillow and yelped through his teeth as he felt another sharp stab of ache.

Uncle raised a hand and recited a spell. Val recognized it in the back of his mind as the sound seal they had learned about it class, but he could only barely focus on anything but the ache. "You must be strong, Val," Uncle said cheerfully, "You must be strong mentally if you are to become strong physically. Do you trust your Uncle?"

Val managed a struggling, "...Y-yes," before he convulsed on the bed. He screamed as the new wave of pain overtook him, growing stronger with each pulse of the ball of magic.

Uncle knelt and Val was finally able to see part of his face. His grin was maddening. "Just a little longer."

Val looked on with horror as his arms grew before his very eyes. He could feel and hear his bones cracking and reshaping. The muscles tore and formed again, thicker and stronger. He screamed louder. He could feel his clothes tightening, constricting his circulation until finally ripping down the sides.

"When will the second stage set in?" Uncle asked the sorcerer, his voice entirely too excited.

"Soon," the man muttered back. His face showed that his entire focus was on the task at hand.

"What are you doing to me!" Val yelled. Tears welled up in his ears and trickled down to his neck. His eyes began to cross with pain. He never stopped screaming. "Why are you doing this to me!"

"You'll understand soon, dear Val," Uncle said, purple cat-slitted eyes now wide with glee.

Val suddenly felt something release in his mind, like a dam breaking. He clawed at the bed. His mind was filled with a million moments of horror. A roaring howl escaped his throat, the sound wild and feral.

"Now," muttered the sorcerer.

"How much longer can you go?" Uncle asked, obviously delighted. "He looks about eighteen now, but we need a bit more than that."

"Not much more," he muttered, "Unless you want to kill him."

Uncle nodded before turning back to their victim. "Do you see now, Val?" he said, voice growing smooth and dark. "You need this. You desire revenge against her, and I can give you that."

Val turned to look at him and saw the face of a murderer. He moved as quick as his sore limbs would allow, clawing a line across that insufferable smile. "_You_!" Val bellowed, fangs bared. "I will _kill you_!"

Xellos drew back in shock. "What did you do?" he demanded, grabbing the sorcerer by the collar. The man struggled to keep the spell going before giving up, the light dissipating into air.

Val leapt at the mazoku with a spell he should not have remembered. The energy pulsed as it hit its target, Xellos's trying in vain to teleport to escape it. He appeared a second later only a few paces away, his arm hiding the newly-created hole. He hissed as he inhaled sharply. He grabbed the sorcerer by the hood and drew him near, nearly chocking him with the force behind it. The plan had gone horribly awry, and he could not fight here. Doing so would risk whatever chance he had of salvaging the situation. He had to retreat, replan, regroup. He teleported out of the house, taking the sorcerer with him.

Val struggled to catch his breath. The adrenaline had dulled the pain a bit, but it was only replaced by the visions of wounding and death that filled his mind's eye. He collapsed back onto the bed. His chest heaved. He clutched the sheets to his naked form as he slowly tucked himself into a ball. He made another shriek of pain before finally breaking down into wracked weeping. He wished so desperately for death.

Author's Notes: First, let me say thank you to the people who let me know in one way or another that they wanted this story continued. I had written the first chapter and planned the overarching story a long while ago and was unsure of continuing. I have another long-range story I'm writing for another fandom, and hadn't participated in Slayers fandom for a long while. I figured I would post it just to save someone from boredom since I had already polished the first chapter. But you've all ignited my passion for the story again! Because of you, I've reconnected with it and am going to continue. I really appreciate all your interest. Thank you all for reading, and especially to the nice reviewers DQBunny, Lina Gabriev, and possessed-anarchist(also for pointing out that line-breaks were not working properly).


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Notes: Told you I wasn't leaving this to die! Thanks to everyone who came back after my stuff was hacked and deleted. More should be up soon. I really appreciate everyone's support! It keeps me going when I'm not in the mood to write sometimes, you know? Hope you enjoy this chapter! Things are getting rather complicated now. Heehee.

* * *

Chapter Three

Tropism

* * *

Fear. Gold Spears hacking through feathered flesh. Screams piercing the air. Eggs smashing against the rocks. Blood on his body, on their bodies, on the ground. They were killing them; stabbing them, gutting them, crucifying them. Red snow covered the ground for miles. The stiff, bloody body of his mother lay over him, keeping him down and out of sight. Stray organs littered the ground. The cacophony of screams persisted. 

"Don't forget that I love you, Val."

What was the voice? It cut through the terrible sights, giving him a kind of hope with its mellifluous tone. But it could not stop it completely. It was another time now. The goldens had left him for dead, covered by the heavy corpses of his family. He clawed against the dirt. He must get out from under them. A mixture of tears and blood ran down his face. He thrust out his hand and heaved himself up. His hand made contact. He pulled it away and stared. It had hit the soft and decaying stomach of his father, tearing away the maggot-rotten flesh with it. By the time he had finally escaped the village, he was covered in the vile corpse-meat. The clearing was as silent as death.

"Don't listen to them. You're a wonderful person, Val. You don't deserve this."

Who? The nightmare seemed farther once it spoke. He could still see and remember, but his body felt oddly at peace. But still, the pain would not subside. He could feel steel inside his flesh. His own screams rang through his ears. He wasn't even sure if they were real or remembered anymore. Pain. My gods, the pain.

"Oh Valgarv, if you really wanted to destroy the world, to purify it, then why do I see such sadness in your eyes?"

Ojou-san…Filia mama…Filia. He ignored the pain of his aching muscles and slowly hugged himself. He could see in his mind's eye the infant days when he would lie in her lap, cuddled against her as she stroked his hair. She held him as she taught him to use the potter's wheel–creating more childish play than an actual vase–his hands gently clasped in hers. She held him so lovingly after every childish scrape, praised every scribble and faulty step. This was the same young woman who chased after him with sorrowful eyes, hungry for the truth. This was the young slip of a girl who was the only one to resist striking the final blow.

Frantically flying from death; chest feeling like it would explode with exertion. He could hear the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. Pain: searing, excruciating pain, both real and imagined. Golden blades creating new scars. His blood dropped into the air. Muscles strained. Shrieking as he struggled for escape. Angry golden eyes staring back at him.

Val's breathing was hard and labored, his chest pressing hard against the bed. "You're such a good boy, Val." The remembered feeling of hands stroking his hair soothed him, with a pair of lips gently kissing his cheek. He was clutched to her breast, feeling her body heat through her clothing. These were the happiest moments of any of the lives he'd lived. He could feel himself lulling into slumber. "You go to sleep, Val. You should be very tired."

But he could not. Golden dragons burst from the sky. Fear. His heart beat frantically. They were everywhere. Everywhere. His legs darted forward. He could see Zynn moving in front of Vevina. They ran. A golden leaped forward. The sound of metal ripping through flesh. They writhed together, impaled. Their sharp screams melted together in his ears. They died holding each other, just as they had lived. He ran. He could not save them.

"And they lived happily ever after," Filia spoke, her eyes looking faraway as if she believed the tale herself. He stared up at her, nestled safely in her lap. She had a thin but lovely face, her defined cheekbones bearing up wide blue eyes. She hugged him close and told him stories she had experience in childhood, stories others had seen, stories that happened long ago. Back then, he had been amazed at her depth of knowledge. Now he realized that he had heard most of them and more a long time ago, in another life. She was still that sweet, naive girl that tried so desperately to help the man she could not understand. Everyone who helped him had their own reasons; even good Gaav-sama wanted to save him for his dragon-strength, would have a use for him. He had no illusions of people's intentions. But he could find no reason for her actions. She had blindly cared for him, raised him, lied and lived ostracized for him when it was in everyone's best interest for him to die as the last remnant of a horrible history. Why?

There was the hard, labored flight of injured fear. He could feel the warm blood and jagged flesh on his claws as he cupped the wound. The desert wind stung his eyes, disoriented him. He began to fall. He knew this would be his last day. Soon he would feel the sharp stab of Gaav-sama's sword and become of two natures, toxic pain always coming with the overwhelming strength.

* * *

Filia shuffled to the door, still groggy. She took a sip of tea from her cup before rapping her knuckles against the door. "Val, you're going to be late for school!" She knocked again. "What's taking you so long? Did you oversleep again?" Her nightgown made shifting sounds as she reached towards the knob, grabbed, and twisted. 

"You'd better hurry if you're going to–" The teacup shattered on the floor.

She was too panic-stricken to scream. Her mouth was open and silent like a fish abandoned to land. The sheets were ripped and whirled around the naked form of the person she feared more than anyone. She had the luxury of romanticizing him since he was dead, weeping for what was so terribly lost. But now that he has suddenly appeared, every mistake she had ever made rushed towards her. She should not have yelled at him last night, should have protected him from bullies, should have been kinder, should have known the mistakes of her race, should not have killed him, should not have yelled and fought so many times out of ignorance. The penance was towering, too much for her to even think of bearing.

She tried to think rationally for only a moment, telling herself that perhaps the last growth spurt had been drastic. But the face was exactly as it had been, so stricken with that same expression of anger and grief that she had etched forever into her mind. There was no mistaking that it was twisted in monumental suffering.

Though she feared for her life, there was the horrid knowledge that her precious boy was lost. That he had been swallowed up and drowned in his new righteous anger, that the child she loved was now the one dead. Every sweet embrace, every exclamation of love, every precious moment with her and her baby was stolen so cruelly away. She felt hot tears sweep down her cheeks.

He slowly lifted his aqua mane, as if it pained him to do so. His eyes opened wide. Slowly and shakingly, he reached out a hand towards her.

'I will die with my baby,' Filia thought to herself, resigned. 'This is how it should be.' She choked on her tears for a moment before walking forward into the room.

"Filia," he said, his hand grasping at the air. His eyes were needy and insistent. She noticed the lack of the familiar "mama" at the end of her name.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she knelt before the bed, her head facing the ground. "I should have done so many things better. Do what you must."

She tried not to flinch as he reached out and grabbed her. She involuntarily gasped in fear before she realized that he was pulling her onto the bed and up against him. His arms slipped around her and tightened. She could feel his chest heave with labored breathing, blowing hot gasps down her neck. She could feel and see the sheen of cold sweat covering him. The muscles of his face were drawn taut with pain, his eyes now screwed shut once again. He looked as if he hadn't slept at all.

Realization finally struck her: he was physically hurt. Her mind and body immediately softened. This was still her sweet child in need of comfort. He needed her to comfort him. She was about to fall back into her familiar maternal instincts when another thought hit her. She was tightly pressed to a fully naked, full grown man.

The blush began at her cheeks and slowly trailed down the rest of her skin. She had never even seen a naked man before! She had never been kissed, never done anything! She'd given Val baths when he was no more than a toddler, but that was innocent and necessary. There was no reason that this indecency should have happened to her! And now this _thing_ which she had been told was the root of such evil and impropriety–a thing that had been covered enough by the sheets that she couldn't have seen–was pressed against her. Of course, she couldn't be sure since she wouldn't know what such would feel like against her, but _still_! They were so close that she was sure she could feel every muscle! What was she supposed to do? This was surely not right, not right at all! Her breathing was now nearly as heavy as Val's own ragged gasps. Filia's cheeks were torrid. She wanted more than anything to run screaming from the room.

She took a deep breath and tried to think calmly. This was still her little Val, she reasoned, and he still needed his Filia-mama. Of course, he now looked so very much like Valgaav, and was now certainly not little but a large, strong, naked man breathing hot air down her neck. But he was still her little Val! Surely! And she needed to do her maternal duty!

She sighed. It was hard reconciling the boy she had raised with the man who had suddenly appeared in his bed overnight. That, and him simply calling her "Filia" signaled that something fundamental had changed. Could she be so sure that it wasn't Valgaav lying so close to her?

"...Val?" she said hesitantly. He slowly opened his golden eyes to look at her. She anxiously looked away. "Are...are you alright?"

He said nothing for a moment. To Filia, it felt like an eternity. "It hurts much less than it did before."

She was surprised how much it sounded like him, his usual inclination to deny or moderate even the most obvious pain. The fact that he didn't deny it outright, knew the pain was too obvious from his tenseness, showed just how much he was suffering.

"What...happened to you?" she whispered.

Suddenly that fearful anger snapped back into his eyes. She tried not to yelp. "Xellos," he said, each short syllable dripping with hate.

Her eyes widened. "No..." she said, her tone first soft and afraid and then rising and trembling, "No! How could this happen!"

"He was the one making me grow like this," he said, pausing as another surge of ache overcame him. Filia could feel his whole body tense. He hissed as he inhaled sharply through his teeth, trying to fight back any noise now that he was no longer alone. "I didn't recognize him before. It was always too dark and I...couldn't remember him." Now it was Val's turn to avoid her eyes.

"What if he comes back?" Filia said, voice trembling. "What if he tries to hurt you again? Val, what are we going to–"

"Don't worry," he said, his grip around her tightening. "I gave him a nasty cut that'll make him think twice about coming back." One hand moved up to stroke her hair and press her closer to him. "Don't worry, Filia. I'll make sure he doesn't bother us."

Filia knew that wasn't true. She wasn't sure if Val was being overconfident or just trying to console her, but everything she knew about Xellos said that he simply did not let a mission fail. Xellos was a Mazoku, and one dutiful enough to fulfill orders even if it meant death. Even if he had not been ordered to do this terrible thing to Val, a Mazoku's hurt pride would not allow him to let such an injury stand. He would be back.

"Filia," Val said, his tone almost sounding like a light scolding. "You worry too much. He won't bother us again. It was his mistake to make me this strong again." He ran his hand through the length of her golden hair.

She looked up at him suddenly. She had resolved to comfort him only moments earlier, yet the tables were turned so quickly. More had changed last night than just his body, and she was apprehensive to find out just how different he was now. Filia never handled change well. She frantically tried to think of something she could do for him, to prove that she was still his maternal protector. Things had not changed so much, she said to herself.

The obvious fact that he was still naked occurred to her, threatening to awash her skin with heat yet again. Of course! There were no clothes that fit him! She could get that for him, while also escaping the situation for long enough to gather her thoughts. It was too difficult to assess their safety from Mazoku attack and what had happened to Val when he was clutching her naked on a bed. It was only out of fear, worry, and sheer force of will that her nervousness had not sent her immediately flying out the door.

"Well, we need to get you some clothes!" Filia said, a little too giddy at being able to escape the awkward situation. She inched away from him. "I'll just get the tailor to come and fix you right up!"

"What are you going to say to him about this?" he asked.

Filia stopped, her eyes going wide. Such an obvious fault to her plan had not occurred to her. The new knowledge of having to explain Val's recent state to a village of gossip-ravenous women began to overwhelm her. Would this be the final event which turned them against her household, sending them to her door with pitchforks to kill the witch who intended to flatten their crops or the dragons that wanted to eat them? "I...uh..."

"Don't worry about it. I'll think of something." He strained to rise to a sitting position, hissing through his teeth slightly as he did so.

"No, Val, please lie down!" She said, arms outstretching then flinching back. She had been about to press her hand to his chest to lightly push him back down, but even such an innocuous touch seemed laced with something that Filia was so afraid of. It seemed as if everything she had done for Val now seemed improper. "You're...obviously in a lot of pain."

"I'll be fine," he said tersely, Filia realizing now that acknowledgment of its severity was the wrong way to approach it. He rose up to a sitting position, this time taking extra care to not make a sound. He cocked a brow at her, seeing from her expression that she was not convinced. "Really, I'm fine. This isn't what you should be concerned about. Get the tailor and I'll do my best to decently cover myself by the time you get back." Filia sighed and nodded, quickly rising from the bed and walking out the door.

* * *

"So," said the Beastmaster as she took a drag of her cigarette. "You're saying Ormerod escaped?" 

"Yes, Mistress," Xellos said, his expression much more serious than what could usually be seen on the face of the trickster. "When I teleported out, I could not keep a hold on him."

She turned to look at him with a grin. "Because of your injury, yes?"

Xellos smiled darkly, knowing his mistress was trying to hurt his pride. "Not just because of that. He saw his chance, and he took it. He's a smart man. He wouldn't be so useful to us if he wasn't."

"So is there no way to tell just how much memory he has?" Zelas knocked off the ash into an ashtray made of bone, held by a gurgling Mazoku servant.

"Well, I cannot tell exactly what Ormerod did, but Val recognized me. I think we must assume that he remembers everything, just to be safe."

Zelas sighed and rolled her eyes. "This certainly puts a damper on things. Here we have the last Ancient dragon, and he remembers hating us. Lovely."

"Please, Mistress," hissed the lesser Mazoku, his snake-like tongue zipping back and forth over his lips as he spoke, "We should capture him and use force! That's what we should have done in the beginning, when he was a baby and still stupid!"

Zelas knitted her brows, lifted her leg, and the seemingly lithe woman knocked the Mazoku across the room into a pile of furs. The ashtray smashed apart against the wall. "Did I allow you to speak? Really, why do I even keep underlings like you around?" She rose from her chair and walked over to where he was sprawled. "Force is a last resort. Ormerod wouldn't work with us any other way, and look what that damn dragon did. And now you think we should do the same to our little experiment gone wrong?" She inhaled deeply into her cigarette and knocked the ash onto the Mazoku's face. "Both human and dragon babies waste away and die without touch, without feelings that would injure us. Do you think I'll risk the death of such a valuable commodity?" She gave him a sharp kick in the ribs, a shriek coming from the pile of furs.

"Get me a new ashtray," she said as she walked back to her chair and sat down. She stretched, her movements languid like a cat. The weak Mazoku groaned and quickly skittered out the chamber. She turned back to Xellos. "So what have you assessed of this situation, pet?"

"We should hold back for now, make him realize exactly what he'll be missing if he resists," he said, his smile partially obscured by darkness. "It'll get a little rough if he can't be persuaded gently, but…"

Zelas reached a hand out towards him. He lowered himself to his knees. She moved her fingers alongside his jawline, stroking his throat and tangling them in his hair. "You're such a good pet. Really, it's no wonder I never created another one."

"I'm your one and only," Xellos said as he looked her in the eyes, his smile triumphant and vulpine.

"Your ashtray, Mistress!" screeched the weak Mazoku as he sped into the room, the carved bone object in his hands.

"Fool!" she yelled, giving the creature another kick. It screeched and held its head in its hands. "Can't you see I wish to be left alone?"

It looked up and give Xellos a nasty glare. He only smiled smugly in return. "Of course, Mistress," it hissed, turning and limping its way out of the room.

* * *

"Thank you so much for coming!" Filia enthused, drawing the tailor into the room, "I know it's on short notice and you must have a lot of work to do, but this is really an emergency." 

He cocked a brow at her as he walked inside. "Which you still haven't told me what that emergency is. Filia, you've given me a lot of good business over the years and I'm happy to help, but I think I at least deserve an explanation."

"Right, right," she said nervously, her eyes avoiding his gaze. "I'm very sorry for troubling you, Adair, but…it's a bit difficult to explain." She bit her lip. What had she been thinking, leaving thinking of this up to Val? He was still such a young thing; he surely wouldn't have thought of anything. She was always the one coming up with lies for them and he only had to play along. She had been so glad to have someone handle this when everything felt just so overwhelming, but she should have thought ahead. Yes, she was the mother here, and the mother should really be able to do more than hire a tailor. She should have…

"Glad to meet you!" Val said as he walked out, arms outspread. He had somehow managed to cobble together elements of his old clothing and Gravos's clothes, but everything was still either lumpy and sagging or stretching to the point of breaking. Adair's eyes widened as he saw this mismatched man walk up to him and clap him on the back like a dear old friend. "So sorry to have bothered you like this, but as you can see, things are a bit out of sorts here."

"I….yes," Adair answered, not knowing what else to do but agree.

Val offered his hand and the two men shook. "I'm Doran, Filia's husband." Filia's mouth dropped open and hung there. She turned to Val and openly stared. Adair was thankfully distracted enough by Val that he wouldn't have noticed, but Val did.

"Poor thing," he said sadly, brows rising in mock-concern, "She's still shocked to see me alive, what with the war and all. I'm still surprised myself that I'm not dead."

"War? Filia said you died in a hunting accident."

"Oh, she did, did she? Poor dear had to think up whatever she could to avoid being found by those bastards," a lace of something harsh worked its way into his voice at the last few words. "They're ruthless, and she did what she had to do in times of war. I wanted my family to be safe, after all." He then stepped back for a moment. "But come in! I'll tell you the whole story while you take measurements. My clothes were mangled getting here, regrettably. I tried to be as inconspicuous as I could, but I still ran into some of their men."

"Their men?" Adair's expression was quickly changing into shock and suspicion to one of intrigue. "Who were you fighting?"

"They're a country from beyond the barrier, a faraway land called Heralt. My wife is from a neighboring country called Fanelin. The two have been in dispute for decades," he said sadly, seeming to almost weave a spell over the tailor as he drew him further and further into the house.

Filia walked after them reluctantly, it taking everything she had to not petulantly cry out, "Those countries don't exist! And where did you learn to lie like that, young man!" She thought of herself for a moment guiltily, but knew that Val's range of acting and weaving of a suitable story was nowhere near anything she could have taught him or even done herself. She stood as silently as she could as she watched Val chatter on.

Adair would raise his measuring tape as Val lifted up an arm and continued to create a story both harrowing and heart-rending. He had been a decorated general of the Heralt army, the greatest military strategist they had. But one day he had seen Filia, dear Filia, tending her flock in the idyllic countryside of Fanelin. Although he was there as a conqueror, he soon found himself wooing a girl of his enemy state. Her purity and beauty brought him to swear against his post, forcing the military to seek his destruction. But the peasants of both countries were so moved by such a display that they resisted. Monumental war broke out: country against country, poor against the rich, even brother against brother. Heralt still seeks the head of Doran to vanquish the will of the people, so that killing their symbol of hope will kill their spirit. Filia shook a little each time he created a new detail of their supposed star-crossed past. He had taken all the love stories she had told him wistfully as a child and cobbled them together into a horrible lie. Every quiver and odd expression she had was only explained away by Val with a, "Oh, I see remembering is still painful for you, darling," or a "Please excuse my wife. She is still in shock."

"We had to send Val away quickly," Val said sadly, his head downcast. "It's hard to send away the son that I never knew, but I must know that he is safe. A kind couple a few cities away took me in and promised that they would do they same for him. Besides," Val stepped closer to Filia and took her gently by the hand. "I made a promise to myself when I had to see her run off with our child in her arms, not knowing whether she or I would be killed by soldiers. I won't leave her side again." Filia was shocked and appalled by what looked like such a sincere expression of sorrow at having to leave the son that didn't exist.

"Your son looks just like you," the tailor said gently, his smile full of sympathy, "I think you'd be proud of him."

"I certainly am," he said, then turned and gave a Filia an expression that had something inexplicably soft in his eyes. The times she had lied and told him about his father's pride for him flooded to her memory. For a moment, the two shared their thoughts only through their eyes.

"My one fear is how they have bewitched the boy. You see, we had this one encounter with a Heralt sorcerer…" Val said as he broke the link and turned back to the tailor, allowing him to continue his work. But Filia now felt oddly quieted by the lies, less insulted at their continued bombast.

By the time Adair was finally done with his measurements, he was completely awestruck. "I…I've got a little son back at home. I can't say I know how you feel, but, well, I certainly feel for your situation, Mr. Ul Copt." He scratched his head of curly brown hair.

"Please, how many times do I have to say it? Call me Doran," he said kindly, as if humoring a child. Somewhere between the midnight escapes and grand battles, 'Doran' had taken on a form larger than life.

"Well, I suppose I should be calling you General, so I guess we'll call it even," Adair said, some of his usual playful nature just beginning to come back into his voice. Val chuckled. "But I want to thank you two for telling me all this, Doran, Filia." Adair turned to her. "To think, all this time you've been buying clothes from me for Val's problem, and trying to hide it. Why didn't you just tell us? It's caused an awful storm of gossip." Filia giggled nervously.

"Poor dear," Val said, "Not knowing where Heralt soldiers were hiding, not knowing who she could trust. I've had to go through the same thing trying to get here. You'd be appalled at the state of the city-folk, always willing to turn someone in for a little pocket-money."

Adair shook his head. "I always suspected as much. Nothing but corruption." Filia smiled, this time a bit genuine. Filia and Val both knew about Adair's resentment of cities life since his brother left to become a playwright and only ended up as a monumental drunk.

"I'm only glad that I managed to find her," Val said as he slipped his arm around her waist. Filia tried to calm herself and play along. "And to think that she waited all this time for me without a single glance at another man."

Adair laughed. "There were certainly glances at her though, I can tell you! Once Mr. Leuridan's son drove a cart into the bread shop watching her!" He continued laughing for a moment before realizing that this probably wasn't the proper thing to talk about after just having met her husband, then awkwardly quieted himself. "Uh, in any case, I should have some clothes for you in a few days. I already have some that are, I think, close enough to work for now though. I'll bring them by later today." He smiled.

"Thank you very much," Filia said warmly, happy to have the ordeal nearly over.

"I'll see myself out, so don't bother," Adair said with a wave of his hand, his face suddenly turning mischievous, "I realize you two probably have some…ahem, catching up to do." He turned and walked towards the door. "See you around market, Filia."

"Goodbye, Adair!" Filia said, exhaling deeply as she let her worries finally escape her. The bell clinked as the door shut behind him. She smiled with satisfaction.

"I'd say that went well," Val said, equally satisfied.

Suddenly, Filia turned and smacked him on the arm. "Ow!" he said, moving backward slightly more in shock than actual pain. "What was that for?"

"Where did you learn to lie like that, Val Ul Copt?" she huffed, cocking a brow.

He shrugged. "When I wasn't Val Ul Copt," Val said simply, thinking this would be enough to quiet her.

Filia's face fell. She lowered her arm and clasped it nervously with the other. "…Sorry," she muttered.

He sighed. "You do what you have to in order to survive. I guess I'm just used to it by now."

"…You still didn't have to say we were married," Filia mumbled, sounding like a child that had been scolded but was still petulant.

Val shook his head. "And what else could I have said, with a grown man looking exactly like the kid who was just here a day before?"

"I don't know, maybe an uncle or…"

"Not nearly good enough. I look exactly like I did but older. Besides, then I couldn't have created such a, well, sweeping drama." Despite himself, Val smiled at his own ingenuity.

"But that's exactly what shouldn't have happened! It sounds like some fairy tale, like its out of a book, like…like…"

"Exactly. These townspeople have been just aching to find out what was wrong with me. They've always had to deal with the oddness of our situation, so why not give them something a little fantastical but still more down to earth than, well, what's actually happening? Most of the gossipers are a bunch of merchant wives who just ache for this sort of stuff. Once he tells his wife, our problems will be solved."

"But we have to act like we're married!" Filia insisted, her hands suddenly balled into fists.

"So?" Val said as he sat down and stretched out in a chair. "If it's that big of a deal, then we can always move."

"Move? Move!" Filia squealed as she flailed wildly. "It's taken me years to get enough customers! I'm just finally able to make it! We can't possibly move again!"

Val shrugged. "Moving's not that bad."

"How can you say that! If it weren't for Jillas and Gravos taking on odd jobs, we never would have survived!"

"We'd have survived," he said simply and shrugged.

Filia was about to protest when she heard Val hiss through his teeth again. Her eyes widened. "You…you were still in pain while you did all that? I thought you were fine!"

Val's expression remained stoic. "You do what you have to. I don't think I could have passed it off as a war wound since I don't have my old scars anymore. It comes and goes, really, so don't act like it's a big deal."

Filia softened, a small frown forming on her face. "I'll…go make you some tea."

"Spice tea?"

The frown turned upward. "Of course. You know I remember," she said, then walked towards the kitchen to make his favorite.


End file.
